All in the Family
by Monny287
Summary: Chase offers to play Zoey's fiance at her family reunion when her white lie gets out of hand. Passion grows in the Lousianna bayou as their fantasy starts to feel more and more like reality. Fluff, for the most part. CZ
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: A different kind of reunion this time. I need some fluff to cut the mood of **_**Lost and Found. **_**Enjoy, and please review! Oh, this assumes that season four never happened, except for the fact that Logan and Quinn are together. I'm very picky about my reality. **

_**To: ZGirl101**_

_**From: MamaBear234**_

_**Hi honey!**_

_**Can you believe summer is right around the corner? It's crazy! It seems like just yesterday we were all getting together for Christmas, and now it's warm and lovely out. Anyway, I know you're very busy up there in New York, so this is just a little note to remind you of the family reunion this weekend. We're holding it at your Uncle Merv's place this year. All the cousins are coming, including the ones from Texas! And, Madison is coming with her husband and their new baby boy. I can't wait! Even your brother managed to tear himself away from his job long enough to tell me that he's coming with his new girlfriend (you know, that Amy girl he's always talking about). Now, I figured since your brother is bringing his girlfriend, it would be a great time for you to bring your mystery man we keep hearing about. He sounds like quite the catch, and we're all dying to meet him. Don't worry about sleeping arrangements, we'll figure that out when you get here. The family is being split up between our house and Uncle Merv's, so living arrangements for the weekend are going to be really flexible. Call me when you read this so I know you're coming. And don't even think about not coming. You haven't been to the last three reunions and you aren't going to miss this one, too. Even if I have to come up there and get you. **_

_** Love you! **_

_** Mom xoxoxo**_

Damn. Damn it all to hell. Zoey groaned and buried her head in her arms, much to the loud protest of her keyboard. Every year, her mother sent her these e-mails. And every year, Zoey had managed to avoid the dreaded family reunion: she had work, she was sick, it was too far away. She had her excuse all primed up for this year, too, and it had involved her "mystery man" and a long vacation in the mountains of Vermont. Turns out that wouldn't work this year. Her mother meant what she'd written, and Zoey really didn't want her mother charging through her Brooklyn office and dragging her out by the collar of her well-pressed suit. For a woman in her 50's, Helen Brooks was not a woman to be trifled with. Besides the embarrassment of having your mother frog-march you out of your office like an unruly toddler, Zoey knew she would hear about it all on the ride to her Uncle Merv's.

For most, a family reunion isn't a big deal. You go for an afternoon, eat some barbeque, get hugged and kissed by people you barely know, fuss over new babies, have some friendly competition, and leave before the sun goes down. And that part Zoey could handle. That was the fun part. The un-fun part was the little clause in the e-mail that said she had to bring her boyfriend. She could always tell her mother she didn't want to subject him to their family just yet, but she'd been dating him for over a year now and her mother was growing more and more impatient. The only problem was that "him" didn't actually, technically, exactly….exist. She had made the whole thing up to get her family off her back about being in her late 20's without having been in a truly committed relationship. Most were appalled that she hadn't settled down yet and popped out a couple of kids. In reality, she was happy being single and successful. It wasn't her fault her family lived in the 1800's. She couldn't go a week without an e-mail (or snail mail letter) from her grandmothers and aunts demanding to know why she couldn't be more like her cousin Madison and find a nice man to set up shop with. Like Zoey had ever aspired to do anything Madison did. Madison was the other reason she didn't want to go, but she could only work on one problem at a time.

What was she going to do? On the one hand, she could tell her family the truth that her "mystery man" was a figment of her imagination. But that would bring humiliation and mocking from every single member from her great-grandmother Pearl to her cousin's new baby. It would be like the time she side-swiped her grandmother's old car by accident; even now she got jokes about not running over people and small animals. At the last family get-together she'd been to, she'd overheard her father tell her cousin's boys that their crash-and-bash game of toy cars reminded him of Zoey. If the fact that she was not only single but had made up the story about _not_ being single, she would never live it down. And it would bring her to a whole new low. She buried her head further into her arms and let out another pitiful groan.

"Hey, stranger." Zoey looked up to find Chase leaning against the doorframe of her office, a travel mug of coffee in each hand. He took a long swig from one and looked at her quizzically. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said, though her voice sounded too flat and miserable to be convincing. She accepted the coffee cup he offered with a thank you and took a deep breath.

"It doesn't sound like nothing," without apology, he leaned over her shoulder and read the e-mail her mother had sent. His brow furrowed in confusion. "A family reunion? That's what you're moaning and groaning about? I know they're boring, Zo, but it's not torture."

"That's not the problem," she muttered. Apparently, it wasn't low enough so that Chase couldn't hear, because he scrolled through and read the e-mail again.

"Hey, you met someone?" he asked after a moment.

"Thanks so much for saying it like that."

"Sorry. So, tell me everything about this guy." Chase hopped up onto her desk in such a way that it sent folders and post-its flying to the floor. She gave him a reproachful look, but got nothing but an apologetic smile.

"There isn't anything to tell."

"Of course there is. Where did you meet him? How long have you been dat—"

"No, I mean he's not real. I made the whole thing up to get my family off my back."

"Oh. So there's _literally_ nothing to say about him."

"That's the idea," she braced herself for Chase's criticism. Or at the very least, him rolling on the floor in hysterical laughter.

"Well, _that's_ awkward."

"Don't start."

"Well, what are you going to do at your family reunion?"

"I'm working on it," she ran her fingers through her hair and let out a breath. "I could….not go. But then my mother would come and haul me there by force. And demand to drive to his house to pick him up. Then the whole story would unravel and I would be the laughing stock of my family and several family friends." She groaned again. "Or I could tell her we broke up. But of course then she'd want to go see him and yell at him for breaking her daughter's heart. Dammit." She thought for a moment before opening up the drawer his legs weren't blocking and pulling out a phone book. She rifled through the pages for a moment before finding what she was looking for.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She waved him of, punching in the number listed and waiting for a receptionist to answer.

"McNally's Escort Service," a chipper female voice came over the line. "How may I help you?"

"Hello, my name is—" Zoey's greeting was cut off by the abrupt sound of a dial tone. Looking over, she saw Chase with his finger on the button with an incredulous look on his face.

"You were going to hire an escort service?"

"Am going to hire one," she corrected him. "It's not like I have a choice at this point. I haven't dated in years. And I don't have the time to go out and find someone. Not to mention by the time I get done explaining that he'll have to play the doting fiancé because I was too chicken to stand up to my stuck-in-the past relatives, he'll be running for the door."

"But Zo…an escort? That's like hiring a hooker."

"Only if I want to fork over the cash."

"Oh, now _there's_ a comforting thought. You don't know what kind of guy you're going to get with that service. He could be an upstanding gentleman who moonlights to pay off his grandmother's medical bills. Or, he could be a total asshole whose entire goal is to get into your pants."

"Chase…" she warned. Chase was nothing if not overprotective. Usually she was tolerant of it. Even found it cute most of the time. Downright adorable. But today, she was _not_ in the mood. She pushed his hand out of the way and reached for the phone book again. "Like I said, I don't have a choice. I'd avoid it if I could, but it's my last hope." Chase snatched both the phone and the directory out of her hands and hid them both behind his back.

"No way. I'm not letting you hire some random guy nobody knows to be alone with you all weekend. It's not safe."

"What do you suggest I do then, oh Master of Wisdom?" the sarcasm dripped from her statement, which he ignored. He thought for a moment.

"I'll do it."

"You'll do what?"

"I'll play your fiancé at your family reunion."

"What?" she choked on the mouthful of coffee she'd just taken.

"You heard me."

"Chase, we're friends. That would be…awkward. To say the least."

"And having to kiss and fondle some random guy would be easier?" He had a point there. But still…She'd never be able to face him again. At the very least, she'd never be able to look him in the eyes again. At least if it was some random escort, she could pay him his fee and never have to see him ever again. But Chase….

"It would change things, Chase. I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

"Chase…" she was still debating when he did something she never expected: he pulled her up out of her chair and kissed her. Not a friendly peck, like he'd given her in the past. This was a lover's kiss, and the passion that fizzled behind it scared the hell out her. She was glad he'd slipped an arm around her waist; she wasn't quite sure her knees were in working order. It took all of her willpower not to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer. But if he kept kissing her like this, she could not be held responsible for her actions. After a long moment that wasn't nearly long enough, he pulled away and gave her a small smile.

"See? That wasn't awkward," he let her go and picked up his coffee. He headed for the door while she was still trying to form a coherent sentence, tossing out as he left, "See you this weekend,_ honey."_

**A/N: What do you think? Continue or toss to the scrap heap? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: So happy about the positive response! I will definitely be continuing this story, and hopefully finishing up **_**Lost and Found**_** soon. **

Chase tossed his coffee cup in a trash can outside Zoey's office and stuck his hands in his pockets, a goofy _I-can't-believe-I-just-got-away-with-that _grin plastered to his face. He was pushing it. He was pushing it so far that he was a fraction of an inch from going over the edge. He knew it, and didn't care. The kiss had been impulsive. It was, in fact, the most impulsive thing he'd ever done in his life. His mind was still reeling from it. She had just looked so adorable and innocent biting her lip that he couldn't resist. He'd wanted to know if she tasted as good as she looked. She did, and his heart sang with it. He walked out onto the busy New York City street with an extra spring in his step.

There was the underlying thought in the back of his mind that he must be a masochist. Being close to her all weekend, playing the doting fiancé but not in reality was likely to kill him. He'd just managed to stuff down those feelings from high school. Now, the offer he'd heard pop out of his mouth and that kiss brought them all back to the surface with a vengeance. What was a teenager's crush turned into the love and desire of an adult in the blink of an eye. He wasn't so sure he could do it now. The grin on his face wavered. Well, it's not like he had a choice. He wasn't about to march back into her office and tell her he couldn't help her out because he wanted to be her fiancé for real. One, it would mean driving her back to that escort service, and just the thought of that made his skin crawl. Two, it was a can of worms he _really _didn't want to open up.

Though he couldn't lie—he was looking forward to the touchy-feely parts about playing Zoey's husband-to-be. And thought it made him feel like a complete jerk, he couldn't wait for the hugging, the kissing, and the cuddling that came with having a significant other. With the goofy grin still on his face, he flipped his cell phone open and quickly dialed a number.

"Hey, Michael," he greeted when Michael answered sleepily. Chase had forgotten that it was really too early to call his nocturnal friend. Oh, well. "I'm going to have to cancel our basketball game on Saturday."

"How come?" Chase heard the rustling of bed sheets as Michael no doubt settled himself against his headboard to stay awake. Michael was not a morning person. Never had been. Chase was already off to an interesting start by calling him before the crack of noon.

"I'm helping Zoey this weekend at her family reunion."

"What do you mean you're helping her? How much help could she need with her family?"

"Well…"

"Chase…"

"I'm going as her fiancé."

"_What?"_ Ooh, that had gotten his attention. There was not a trace of drowsiness left in Michael's voice as he babbled nonsensically for a few seconds. "When did _that_ happen?"

"Don't worry, I didn't propose. I'm just playing her husband-to-be to get her family off her back for being a businesswoman instead of a housewife."

"Dude, you just gave me a heart attack."

"Don't you think we're a little old for you to call me 'dude'?"

"Don't change the subject. Why the hell did you agree to that?"

"She needed help, Michael. She was going to hire an escort service."

"She's a grown woman, Mr. Overprotective. If she wants to hire a stranger to be her date, that should be her right."

"Not the point." Chase's good mood deflated a little.

"Chase, you've spent ten years getting over her. Don't you think playing her fiancé is just a tad counterintuitive?"

"Maybe. But there's no going back on it now."

"Remind me to sock you later."

"Michael…"

"You've got to remember that this is pretend, Chase. If you delude yourself into thinking it's real, you're only going to wind up hurt in the end." Damn. He had a point.

"Yeah, thanks, Ann Landers." Chase was very tempted to hang up. He'd expected support from his friend, not this. Then again, Michael had the patience of a saint with Chase's crush in high school, and had all but thrown a party when he decided he was done with Zoey. Chase knew that it wasn't that he didn't like Zoey; he just didn't like to see his friend torture himself.

"I'm serious, Chase. It might be better if you keep the touching to a minimum."

"Well, you're about ten minutes too late for that."

"What do you mean?"

"I may have kissed her to seal the deal." He heard Michael curse roughly into the phone. Michael sighed.

"How did that go?"

"Amazing," he said. Michael let out a low whistle.

"You better be careful, my friend. Too much of that could be disastrous."

"I'll try to remember." Chase reached his building and was grateful for the natural end of his conversation with his friend. "Listen, I go to go; I just got into work. I just thought I'd drop you a line so you're not sitting at the park and waiting for me to show up."

"It is appreciated."

"Later."

"Later."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: I'll try to alternate points of view, but don't hold me to that. ;) The main stretch of Zoey's hometown is based on my own hometown. However, since my hometown is in New England and this is set in Louisiana, obvious changes were made. And for the record, I've never spent much time in Louisiana except driving through it. My entire idea of the state revolves around parts of my childhood living in North Carolina and Maryland, and from having family in Georgia. Please don't judge if I'm off the mark. I haven't been south of the Mason Dixon line in at least five years. **

The plane ride was never ending. Zoey was positive she would grow to a ripe old age and die waiting for the plane to make its way from LaGuardia airport to the one in Baton Rouge. Not that the day had started off particularly well. She hadn't slept well the night before; she was too anxious about how she was supposed to pass of her platonic best friend for her fiancé. Would they be convincing? Would her all-knowing mother see right through them? How much physical contact would be required? And how much could she stand before things got awkward? And the real question: how much could she stand before she had to stop lying to herself? She didn't want to touch that one with a ten foot pole. Too sticky.

After her bout of insomnia, her alarm had decided to shut itself off, making her twenty minutes late for meeting Chase at their favorite coffee shop. When they finally made it to the airport, she had removed all of her metal belongings from her person and handed them to Chase. She made it through the detector unscathed, but Chase (having been too engrossed with talking with her) had walked through still holding her jewelry and belt. When that was figured out, he walked through but forgot to remove his own metal. Chase came about one key ring from being strip searched by airport security at seven in the morning. He found it amusing (he would, she had thought bitterly), but it only added to the headache growing behind her eyes.

Boarding the plane had gone off without a hitch, but the plane was overbook and crowded, and there was a toddler who had spent the first half of the flight screaming his head off. His mother had tried to shush him, but to no avail. It didn't help that she didn't particularly like flying; ever since that seventeen hour flight (give or take) from California to London, and back again, flying was on her list of things she'd rather not do again. She felt anxious and claustrophobic, and the thought that they were in the human equivalent of a sardine can 40,000 feet off the ground was bouncing around her brain. They hit a patch of turbulence, and she gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles were white. She glared at Chase sitting next to her. He was leaning back in his chair, headphones pouring music into his ears, a small smile on his face. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. She turned away from him to look out the window, hoping the view would calm her nerves. It didn't. Looking down at the buildings and patchwork farmland only reinforced the sardine can theory and made her slightly nauseous.

"Zo, you've got to relax," she heard suddenly in her ear, making her jump. A breathy chuckle followed the words, making a shiver go down her spine. _Okay, that did not just happen._ She turned to find Chase looking at her sympathetically, his music forgotten in his lap.

"Easy for you to say," she said. "You actually _like_ flying."

"I don't like it," he corrected. "I just tolerate it better than you do."

"Same difference."

"You know more people die in car accidents every year than in plane crashes."

"Somehow that's not very comforting."

"Work with me, here," he said. "We're almost there. About an hour at the most."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Well, you could, but we'd both have to sign it. Which means you'd have to let go of that armrest you're strangling," he pointed at the armrest, which creaked in protest.

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"Thanks. I'll be here all week."

"Great."

"Besides, I think I've got something that'll take your mind off the plane," he gave her a boyish smile as a he rummaged through his carry-on bag. He extracted a worn red velvet jewelry box and passed it to her. "Open it." Zoey did and was affronted with quite possibly the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen. A simple platinum band, a square diamond flanked by sapphires. Simple, elegant, gorgeous. Was he insane? She couldn't even begin to think about how much this ring had cost. She had a cheap ring tucked in her suitcase she was planning to wear for the weekend.

"Chase—"

"I know you have a fake one in your bag. But I'll be damned if my fiancé is going to wear a cubic zirconia ring."

"I'm not your fiancé," she reminded him.

"You will be to everyone there," he said, shooting her down. "You don't want your family to think I'm cheap. Humor me."

"Still…"

"Don't worry about it," he cut her off with a dismissive hand wave. He took the box from her and plucked the ring from it. Without saying a word, he lifted her hand and slipped it on her ring finger. The simple gesture made her heart flutter. _It's just pretend. This isn't real._ But it sure felt real. Despite being in a cramped plane miles above the ground, it felt real. And though she couldn't be sure, she thought she saw his hand shake. He squeezed her hand before setting it in her lap. "There. Now no one will doubt your fiancé loves you." Hell, even she believed he loved her. It was an unsettling feeling.

"Thank you, Chase."

"Like, I said, don't worry about it," he squeezed her hand again and went back to his music.

"Okay, so don't be surprised if my family seems a little…odd," Zoey made the comment nervously as they turned the corner onto the dirt road leading into her hometown. The tires of the rental car, a large SUV, cut through the dirt and dust like butter, something she was grateful for. She'd learned to drive on her grandfather's ancient pick-up, with bald tires and a faulty transmission. Many an afternoon had been spent trying to flag down a neighbor to help her jump start it.

Zoey couldn't get over how little her hometown had changed. Then again, do small towns every truly change? There was still the local high school, set a mile away from the rest of the town, looking more like a prison than a place of education. Even the sign proclaiming it to be a school that read "Educational Facility" looked like it belonged more at a jail. The rest of the town looked like something out of the late 1800's. A cemetery sat in the middle of town, saved from the surrounding construction of houses and shops by a black wrought-iron fence. The gravestones in there dated back to before the Civil War, and for a moment, she worried about what Chase would think about the Confederate flags stuck in the grass along with the American flags fluttering in the breeze. The blocky brick building holding most of the "downtown" shops stood high against the oncoming dusk. She put on her blinker and took a left, going along one of five roads that led to a confusing intersection that would give anyone a headache if not accustomed to it.

"What do you mean 'odd'?" Chase asked. "Aren't all families odd?"

"My family's a little bit odder than your family."

"You've never met my family, Zo."

"I guarantee you my family is worse."

"They can't be that bad," he shook his head.

"Oh, you'll see," she turned onto another dirt road, this one leading away from the hustle and bustle of town. The road was long, and desolate. Trees covered in Spanish moss reached their branches out above them, creating an almost seamless canopy of green. The sunlight dappled in some places, but it was eerily reminiscent of being in a tunnel. Chase commented on how gorgeous it was; she was loathe to tell him that it was probably infested with chiggers and would give him a case of bug-bites so bad it would make chicken pox look like a walk in the park. She found that out the hard way the summer before going to P.C.A. There was not enough calamine lotion in the world to soothe that itch.

They eventually came to the end of the tunnel, where the fields were cleared to reveal homes dotting the country side. The first on their right was Zoey's home; the e-mail had said the reunion was being held at her great-uncle's, but given that was down the road, she felt it better to stop at her childhood home first. Tucked away almost a quarter mile off the main road stood a large, white, rambling farmhouse with a lazy, wrap-around porch. Zoey couldn't help but smile. She adored New York, but this was where she had grown up, and it would always have a soft spot on her heart. As they pulled closer, a black and white dog of unknown background came up to bark joyously at them, his tail wagging so hard it looked like he would take off at any minute. Another dog lying on the porch was the one Zoey knew; his name was Buddy and had been one of her best friends growing up. He was getting on in years now, and only lifted his graying head to give a half-hearted bark before going back to his nap. Zoey looked to Chase to gauge his reaction. He seemed placid, but she could tell he was getting nervous.

"You were expecting a plantation?" she teased. Chase started suddenly, but gave a winsome smile.

"Nah. I never had you pegged for a Southern belle, Zo."

"' Rhett... if you go, where shall I go, what shall I do?'" Zoey adopted an exaggerated Southern accent and did her best Scarlet O'Hara impression. She apparently did well, because Chase cracked up. Especially when she put her hand to her forehead and swooned.

"'Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn'," he finished, as she knew he would; he couldn't resist.

"Actually, the family did have a plantation back in the day," she said, pulling up next to a blue sedan and turning off the ignition.

"Really?"

"Yeah. My mother's side of the family has been here for years. We used to have a large spread a little north of here; we grew cotton, mostly. After the Civil War, it pretty much became a museum. It was passed down, but nobody ever really lived there. My great-grandparents sold it during the Depression. It was just too much to keep up with," she got out of the car and gave a stretch. "I've seen pictures. The electric bill alone would cost more than I make in a year. The money went into the family pot. Part of it went to pay for my tuition at P.C.A and then college."

"Mine came from a lucky hand in Vegas."

"Really?"

"No, but makes an interesting story, doesn't it?"

"Chase…"

"Sorry, dear," he gave her an impish grin. She glared and was about to reply with something not altogether wholesome when the front door of the farmhouse flew open and slammed against the siding with a loud _bang!_

"Zoey Brooks, you get over here and give your mother a hug!" a thin, attractive woman stepped out onto the front porch, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Zoey couldn't believe that after so many years of living in California, and then England, her mother didn't look out of place at all in the dusty fields of a southern farm. Gone were her business suits and Zoey knew her mother didn't miss them. As much as she loved her business life, it was exhausting and in her mid-forties, she had retired to the family farm in Louisiana. Now, she spent her time doing things her busy days had not afforded her a decade before, which ran the gambit from knitting (a newly acquired hobby) to babysitting her grand-nephews and nieces. And bugging her children for grandchildren to spoil.

"Hi, Mom," Zoey smiled and met her mother halfway for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment of suffocation by affection, her mother backed away and gave her a once-over.

"Oh, honey, you need to eat more. You're all skin and bones!"

"You always say that."

"And every time I see you, you keep getting skinnier and skinnier," her mother chucked her under the chin. "Don't worry. I've got dinner cooking in the kitchen. We'll do something about that. Now, where is that mystery man of yours? We're all just dying to meet him."

"Oh, right," Zoey turned to gesture to Chase, who was kneeling on the dusty ground, trying to placate the little black and white mutt that was jumping up in an attempt to lick him everywhere at once. He managed to pin the dog down to rub its tummy, which was met with a wagging tail and lolling tongue. Zoey couldn't help but chuckle when he went to stand up, only to be knocked onto his back by the little dog, obviously displeased by the interruption of petting. He finally gave up and gathered the mutt close, standing with it cradled in his arms. "Well, you already know Chase."

"You're engaged to Chase?" her mother sounded equal parts surprised and amused. A jolt of terror flashed through her for a moment. Her mother had known Chase for years, would know they were faking it, would tell everyone, and her entire plan would fall apart….oh, God. All of the doubt disappeared, however, when her mother pulled her in for another hug and gave an overjoyed shout. "I knew it. I knew it. Just wait until I tell your father. I just knew it!"

"Mom—" but her mother was already down the porch steps and embracing her "fiancé", dog and all. Chase looked a little bemused at the affection, especially juggling a mutt that was trying to lap his face clean.

"Hi, Mrs. Brooks," he managed, while Zoey mouthed 'sorry' to him behind her mother's back.

"Chase, it is so good to have you here," Mrs. Brooks took the dog from him and shooed it out into the fields. "Sorry about the dog. She's Dustin's, and he doesn't have her trained quite yet."

"No problem," he reassured her with the same winsome smile Zoey recognized he often gave her. "I think she's cute."

"She's cute, but she's a menace," Mrs. Brooks shook her head. "She chases the children, tore through the garden, got muddy paw prints all over my clean house, and she howls at the moon!"

"Mom, where is everyone?" Zoey asked.

"Well, we're split between here and Merv's. Half of the out-of-towners are here, half at your uncles, and everyone local is just driving down for the day on Sunday," she looped her arm through Chase's and led him towards the front door. "Which reminds me that they've all been dying to meet you, Chase. It's not often our Zoey brings someone home. Come on, I'll introduce you."

"Brace yourself," Zoey muttered to him as he passed. Boy, was he in for one hell of a surprise through that door. Suddenly, she felt as though she'd fed him to the wolves mercilessly. He volunteered, sure, but not for _this._ She could only hope she could find some way to make this up to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: Chase meets Zoey's family. This should get interesting… And before you ask, no; none of these characters are based on anyone in my family. It would take a novel to get down how nuts my family is! Oh, and I'm tweaking the Zoey 101 timeline a bit. In this universe, the first half of "Goodbye Zoey" happened, only instead of following her across the Atlantic, Chase was much more sensible and followed her to the airport instead. Zoey did not actually go to England, and so Chase's (lovely) anguished admission of love was never made. **

Chase wondered briefly if he should be worried that Mrs. Brooks had his arm in a vice grip in her own, as though he was going to escape. And when Zoey muttered "Brace yourself" as they passed, a line of sweat popped out at the nape of his neck. They couldn't be that bad. Chase has his fair share of crazy relatives (including a great-grandmother who was convinced she could communicate with the dead), and he'd come out alive. Surely, Zoey's family couldn't be worse. Look how she turned out.

Entering the house was like entering the stock market in New York at noon. Chase never would have guessed this many people were in the house when he'd been standing outside. A radio in the kitchen blared Tim McGraw, to which a woman about Mrs. Brooks' age sang to off-key as she stirred something that smelled amazing. The mutt who had attacked him earlier ran past them, covered from head to toe in mud, making several of the occupants yell in surprise. A few men were sitting around a television, watching what looked to be a football game. School-aged children ducked around his legs, intent on getting away from whoever was "it", screaming and laughing as they scrambled up the stairs. They were trailed by a toddler, who looked on the verge of tears, crying "Me too! Me too!" He flopped down on the stairs on all fours to climb up, only to be tumbled off by his cousins coming back down. An indignant wail rose up, and Mrs. Brooks let go of his arm to comfort him and scold the other children for not being more careful.

"Sorry about that," she said, coming back up to him with the toddler on her hip. "It's just chaos in here. If you're under four feet tall, you're liable to get trampled. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" She aimed the last question at the little boy, who nodded with his thumb in his mouth. She gave him one last squeeze and set him down, where he toddled off to find the other children again. Chase felt Zoey come in behind them, placing a reassuring hand on his back before greeting another family member.

"So," Mrs. Brooks began, leading Chase further into the house. "We've got Mary Claire dancing to the radio. That's my sister—Zoey's aunt. Mary Claire, shut that thing off and come say hello to Chase." Mary Claire looked up and waved, but did not do more.

"Well, you can meet her later," Mrs. Brooks pulled him further into the house. "Over here we have—" But it was too late. It seemed Chase had crossed an invisible threshold, and it gave everyone in the house liberty to ogle him like a zoo animal. In less time than it took to draw his next breath, Chase was surrounded by all the females in the house (minus Mary Claire, who was still singing, this time terribly off tune to "All My Exes Live in Texas"). Chase felt rather like a side of beef being eyed at the butcher's, and looked around frantically for Zoey. When he couldn't locate her, he nervously turned back to her family members.

"Hello," he said hesitantly. The women bombarded him with questions, to the dismay of Mrs. Brooks, who valiantly tried to throw him a life preserver.

"So, how long have you and Zoey known each other?"

"I wonder why she's never brought you home before?"

"Do you have any brothers?"

"How did you propose?"

"Ooh, if I were twenty years younger…" a rather elderly voice sounded from his left elbow. He found out later it belonged to Zoey's other great-aunt, Millicent (affectionately known as Milly). He also learned that it would have made little difference if she was twenty years younger or twenty years older, she would have tried to pick him up anyway. It seemed that Aunt Milly had quite the liking for younger men, and Zoey had confided that when she was younger, she had taken to humming "Mrs. Robinson" under her breath whenever she walked by. She'd never married, and tended to live vicariously through the numerous romance novels she carted with her everywhere. Zoey had giggled over this, telling him that she found it ironic that Milly loved novels set in medieval times, but also happened to be a raging feminist. She was the only one who didn't give Zoey grief for being nearly thirty and unmarried.

"Uh…" Chase was unsure of where to start. He also realized with sickening dread, that he and Zoey had not created a back-story about their dating lives. How they met would be easy, since everyone knew him as her friend from school. But he had no idea what kinds of stories she'd been telling her family about her "mystery man", which had recently morphed into him. He was saved by a large hand grasping him hard by the shoulder and jerking him to his left. Another hand reached for his arm as he stumbled, and Chase looked up into the face of a haggard looking man in his sixties. A second later a cold bottle was pressed into his hand, and the fingers digging into his shoulder guided him to where the rest of the men in the house sat, surrounding the television.

"Break it up, girls," the man said, waving his hand dismissively. Most of the women dissipated with a collective sigh of regret, but Aunt Milly stayed strong.

"Look here, Bud, you can't just wave us away! This isn't the 1930's, and for another thing—"

"Milly, the sixties are over. The equal rights movement has ended," Bud looked amused. "So get off your pedestal and put a bra on!" Chase choked on the swig of beer he'd taken, trying not to laugh.

"Hmph! It's men like you that will bring this world to ruin, mark my words."

"Love you, too, Milly," Bud gently turned her around and said affectionately. "Now, why don't you go help Mary Claire in the kitchen and bake us manly men a pie?"

"I'll bake you something," Milly threw over her shoulder. "But it sure as hell won't be a pie. I've heard vintage baseball cards roast well…" Bud looked affronted, and slapped a meaty hand to his chest. He added a gasp for effect.

"Come now. You don't want anything to happen to those sex books of yours…"

"They're not _sex_ books, for crying out loud."

"They say 'heaving bosoms' every other page. That makes them sex books in my book."

"And just how would _you_ know what they say on every other page, Bud Brooks?" Milly asked, a twinkle in her eye. Bud flushed a deep shade of red and muttered something about high school and a lost bet. He quickly turned towards the other men and took Chase with him.

"Damn woman," Bud cursed as he flopped heavily into an arm chair. He gestured to a similar chair on his other side. He took a long draw off his beer and then turned to Chase. "You're Zoey's boyfriend, hmm?"

"Fiancé," Chase corrected automatically, a little surprised at how easily that had fallen from his lips.

"Right. Well, you don't have to worry about flack from me. I'm not her father, just an uncle."

"Okay…"

"So, how come she's never brought you home before?"

"We haven't been dating that long."

"And you're engaged?"

"Well, we've known each other for a long time."

"P.C.A, right? I remember when Rob—that's Zoey's father—went there. Won a full scholarship from an essay he wrote in ten minutes," Bud shook his head and took another drink. "Always was a little big for his britches. We loved him anyway."

"I didn't know you could write an essay in ten minutes," Chase remarked. Then again, he was the kind of person who spent a week on a paper, and then another three days revising it. Procrastination did not fit him well. It made him a great editor, but kind of cramped his social life a bit.

"Neither did Rob. But he just whipped out a paper and pencil on the school bus and jotted it down, then the bastard went on to win a full scholarship to one of the best prep schools in the nation. But we don't hold it against him. Do we, Rob?" Bud directed the last statement at the man fiddling with the rabbit ears above the TV. He cursed when the station was still white with static snow, then turned towards Bud with a questioning arch of an eyebrow. Bud motioned him over. "Come over here and meet the man who's stealing away your baby girl."

"Stealing?" Chase squeaked. That wasn't really the terminology he would have used to describe his relationship to Zoey. Especially to her father. The last time he'd met Mr. Brooks, he'd been a suave businessman with a body rather like Chase's: well-kept but scrawny. It seemed Robert Brooks now bench-pressed trains in his retirement, because Chase couldn't ever remember the man's biceps looking nearly that large.

"I don't have to meet him. I already know him," Rob held out a hand for Chase to shake. "Hi, Chase. Good to see you again."

"You too, sir," he said.

"I knew Zoey was bringing her fiancé, but I truly didn't expect it to be you," Rob replied. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans and regarded him pensively. "Finally manned up and told her, did you?"

"Er—"

"Manned up?" Bud looked curious.

"Well, if I recall correctly, Chase, you had quite the crush on my girl when you two went to school together," Rob smiled. Chase wanted to sink beneath the floorboards. First his friends, then his teachers, now Zoey's family. Was there anyone who _didn't_ know how he felt about her? Oh, wait…the one person who mattered didn't know. And if Chase had anything to say about it, she never would.

"Did you now?" Rob grinned, and his eyes twinkled as if this was the best piece of news he'd heard in months.

"Well—"

"He even followed her to the airport."

"_Really?"_

"Yep. We were all set to have Zoey come with us to England—you remember, I was there for business—when Chase comes barreling through security to convince her not to go. Seems he'd bribed the security guard with a fifty dollar bill," Rob really seemed to be enjoying this. Chase was four shades of red and was quite sure at this point that if he was careful, he could asphyxiate himself with the strings of the hooded sweatshirt he wore. "So, he comes running in, saying something about how sorry he was for something he'd said and that he didn't want to lose his best friend. Zoey was so moved that she decided to stay." Bud gave a low, impressed whistle.

"Now there's something you don't see every day," he said. "That's something like out of one of those romantic movies Milly likes so much."

"Helen and I even had a bet going. I'm out twenty bucks now."

"You were betting on us, Dad?" Chase was relieved when Zoey breezed into the living room, having just escaped from the female relatives herself.

"Damn straight. It took so long we had to do something to occupy ourselves while we waited. You owe me the twenty dollars I lost to your mother."

"Now, now, don't be a sore loser," she chuckled, leaning over to give her father a hug. Rob kissed his daughter affectionately on the top of the head. For a minute, Chase could imagine Zoey as a little girl, the blond-haired, brown-eyed apple of her father's eye. He wondered if she'd been the same as a child as she was now. He could just see her going around at five, trying to fix everyone's problems and doling out advice.

"I'm not a sore loser. Your mother's a sore winner," Rob replied, giving her one last squeeze. "I missed you, baby girl."

"I missed you, too, Dad," she said, perching herself on the armrest of Chase's chair.

"Well, I suppose if I have to lose you to some guy, I'm glad it's this one," Rob smiled. "Though, he didn't ask my permission first…"

"Because it's not the 1800's," Zoey shot back. She ruffled Chase's hair affectionately. Chase impulsively wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her into his lap. The squeal of surprise he was sure was genuine—they'd never fleshed out the agreement on physical contact. Chase decided he'd play it by ear. Rob shook his head and left the room. Bud followed to refresh his beer, saying something about leaving the lovebirds alone.

"So, you've met everyone?" she asked, a little awkwardly. She was stiff in his arms. Which, Chase wanted to tell her, would simply not do. No one would think they were together if she looked awkward in his embrace.

"Not quite everyone," he said. "Relax. You look like I'm torturing you or something."

"I heard you got accosted by the women when you came in," she said, ignoring his last comment but instinctively melting into him. Chase's heart did a little pitter-patter of joy before he reminded himself this was all an act. But _while_ it was an act, he was going to live it up. He traced patterns on her arm with his fingertips, delighted in the way she shivered a bit. "Sorry about that."

"Feed me to the wolves, I get it."

"I told you to brace yourself. _And_ I warned you beforehand my family was odd."

"But you didn't tell me your mother would drag me in the house and show me off like a prized stallion."

"I didn't know she was going to do that."

"Well, if you really didn't know, you're forgiven."

"Dinner's ready!" Chase heard Mrs. Brooks call from the kitchen. She walked into the living room dusting her hands off on a dishtowel, smiling at how Chase and Zoey were entwined. "Come on, you two. I bet you're hungry after that long flight. Chase, you can meet everyone else at dinner. Oh, and Zoey, Madison is coming by after dinner with the new baby. I expect you to be nice."

"Yes, Mother," Zoey looked as though she'd rather eat snails. She stood up and offered her hand to Chase.

"Who's' Madison?" he asked, following her to the table.

"Tell you later," Zoey said, motioning for him to sit down. Dinner was apparently a family affair, different from his own family. His family had dinner together once in a blue moon. He got the impression this was a nightly event, as everyone seemed to know exactly where to sit and did so with a natural grace afforded to a family comfortable with eating together. On the table was an assortment of food Chase had smelled cooking in the kitchen, including a stew of some sort that looked inviting. Bud quickly said grace, and everyone started reaching for dishes.

"Okay, everybody, dig in!" Mrs. Brooks called from the head of the table, a bit too late. Chase had a feeling he was going to like this vacation with Zoey, and wondered how the heck they were ever going to go back to being just friends.

**A/N: Okay, this was written in a fit of writer's block. But people were asking for more, so here it is. Read and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: You've met the good. Let's meet the bad. Maybe we can meet some ugly later. I haven't decided yet….**

Okay, so she probably shouldn't have just thrown Chase to the wolves like that. And wolves her family was. She had a brief glimpse of her mother forcibly dragging him into the kitchen before her bushy-haired best friend was obscured by at least ten of her female relatives. The questions were pelted with more efficiency and accuracy than a band of army snipers, and Aunt Milly's insistence that had she been twenty years younger, Chase would have made a fine fling made her want to pound her head into the wall. If it was this bad with Chase, who had met some of her family before and was only pretending to be her fiancé, how the heck was she supposed to subject a complete stranger to this someday? He'd never make it past the door before turning around and running for the hills. She was sure Chase would have liked to, if Bud had not gripped him so tightly around the shoulder.

Zoey sighed and buried her head in her hands. At this, the relatives who had bombarded Chase descended on her, eager with questions of their own. Even Mary Claire had shut off her country music station to turn a keen ear to the conversation. She was rushed into the kitchen, placed on a tall barstool, and surrounded by her female relatives. She felt rather like a specimen under a microscope.

"So," her second cousin, Katie, said as Zoey tried to keep her balance on the rickety stool after being shoved into it. "Tell us everything."

"Everything? Everything what?"

"Everything about Chase, duh."

"Could you be anymore vague?" Zoey muttered.

"How'd you meet?" Aunt Milly said. "That's a good place to start."

"You all know how we met. We were friends at P.C.A."

"This is _that_ Chase?" Aunt Milly looked shocked. "Well, that boy grew up fine, didn't he?" She glanced over at said boy—no longer a boy—and eyed him appreciatively.

"Milly! You're old enough to be his grandmother!" Helen, Zoey's mother, slapped her aunt on the shoulder in shock. "That's sick!"

"It's not sick. He's an adult. Besides, some men are into older women."

"Not that much older."

"You'd be surprised!"

"You're right. I would be surprised if someone Chase's age picked you up in a bar."

"Oh, you know bars aren't my scene, Helen."

"It's an expression, Milly." Milly wave her off with a dismissive flick of her hand and continued as though her niece hadn't spoken.

"Now, the _supermarket._ There's the place to pick up eligible young men."

"Okay, that's a little too much information—" Katie looked positively green as she heard her great-aunt talk about hitting on younger men.

"Oh, really, dear, it's so easy. You should try it sometime. You're short enough…"

"Do I dare ask what I'm short enough for?"

"Well, it's all so easy. First, you have to find a strapping young man. Then, you have to pretend to desperately need whatever is on the top shelf. If he's a gentleman, he'll offer to get it for you. Then you make your move! If he's not a gentleman…well, you don't want one of _those_, anyway!"

"Oh, God…" Katie buried her face in her hands, obviously embarrassed to be related to Aunt Milly. For her part, Milly only sat there and grinned. Zoey watched the display calmly, praying they'd get so off-topic that they would forget her "engagement". Her hopes were dashed however, when Mary Claire spoke up. It was uncharacteristic of her; she was incredibly quiet, the silent sister in her mother's family. Her mother attributed it to being a middle sister, and often overlooked by their parents, so she had learned just to be quiet and not cause trouble. She was a sweet woman, and a good cook. If she could, she would spend all day in the kitchen playing her beloved country music all day. Amazingly, unlike Great-Aunt Milly, Mary Claire _had_ married, and had managed to find a man as quiet as she was. She had met Phil—her husband—while they were in college together. She had gone for a teaching degree, and he was there for accounting. Their freshman year, they had overlapped in their required writing class, and had been together ever since. Her children were younger than Zoey and Dustin by quite a few years; they'd had fertility issues early in their marriage and it had taken them nearly fifteen years to have their first child, Zoey's cousin Lucy. They'd amazingly had one more child, a boy named Zachary. They'd stopped after that, with the reasoning that they had one of each, and anything more would just be too much to handle. The two children were in their teens now; Lucy was entering college in the fall.

"Can we take a look at your ring, Zoey?" was the quiet question from her aunt, and though it was soft, it was powerful enough to both stop the bickering and turn the conversation back towards Zoey and her "fiancé". Zoey looked down at her hand, only just remembering the ring Chase had given her on the plane. Her face flushed as she remembered their conversation. Her mother snatched her hand up to look at the ring herself.

"Well, he's got good taste, I can say that," Great Aunt Milly said, leaning over her niece's shoulder to see. "Any idea where he got it?"

"No, I have no idea," Zoey said honestly. She really didn't know where Chase had gotten the ring, and she could only hope that it hadn't cost him too much money. This _was_ a fake engagement, after all. It would be terrible of him to spend that much on a ring she was only going to wear for a weekend. Even if she did love it.

"So, how did he propose?" Katie was dying to know.

"Er—" Zoey bit her lip. Realization splashed over her like a bucket of ice water. They'd never settled on a cover story. What if what she said contradicted what he said? It would blow their cover, definitely. "You should ask Chase about it. He really loves to tell the story. And he remembers it much better than I do. It happened so fast, it's all a blur." _Please, please buy that,_ she thought. Her mother looked poised to reply, but a _ding_ from the kitchen timer brought her attention to the stew simmering on the stove.

"Oh! That's dinner!" her mother said. She waved Zoey off the bar stool. "Go say hello to your father while I get dinner on the table. I'll call you guys when it's time to eat." Zoey was grateful for the distraction, and slithered off the barstool into the living room before anyone could ask her any more questions. She wondered, vaguely, what the "menfolk" had been talking about, but figured it had something to do with Chase, as he looked ready to bury himself beneath the floorboards. She ruffled his hair and perched herself on the edge of his armrest. Then something interesting happened.

Logically, Zoey knew there would have to be affection involved. Hand-holding, hugging, cuddling….maybe even kissing. After all, what kind of to-be-married couple in this century was completely hands-off? So, rationally, she knew there would have to be touching. But she had pushed it away in her mind. She had pushed it so far into a corner of her mind that it was complaining of starvation and maltreatment and civil liberties. So, naturally, she was quite shocked when she felt an arm snake around her waist and pull her into Chase's lap. She let out a surprised squeak she rather wished she'd been able to hold in and found herself laying haphazardly across his knees. She stiffened, trying to retrieve a little bit of personal dignity.

"So, you've met everyone?" she asked, trying desperately to act as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Not quite everyone," he said. He added conspiratorially: "Relax. You look like I'm torturing you or something." Torture? Well, maybe not in the traditional sense, though she was trying to get her heart to stop racing…._No, we're not going there,_ her mind chastised her. It wouldn't do to start pretending this was anything more than one friend doing a favor for another. But she knew he was right; if she looked as though she was uncomfortable with his affection, there would be no way they'd pull this off. She made a conscious effort to relax, leaning back against his chest.

"I heard you got accosted by the women when you came in," she continued, hoping her apprehensions would go away if they just talked for awhile. All hopes were dashed when Chase started running his fingertips lightly up and down her arm. How the heck was she supposed to concentrate now? Answer: she couldn't. She shivered at the light contact. She tried to push on. "Sorry about that."

"Feed me to the wolves, I get it," he teased her. They chatted back and forth about her family for a few minutes before her mother came in to collect the family for dinner. She gave the two a warm smile, obviously delighted that her daughter had found a good man to settle down with. Zoey didn't know how it was going to go over when she and Chase "broke up". Well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it. She went to move when her mother dropped the bomb.

"Oh, and Zoey, Madison is coming by after dinner with the new baby," she gave Zoey a hard look. "I expect you to be nice."

"Yes, Mother," she said, but knew her face gave her away. Chase gave her an inquisitive look and asked about the exchange, but she brushed him off and they headed into the dining room.

To say that Zoey and her cousin Madison didn't like each other was akin to saying the _Titanic_ had a little accident. Madison was six months older, and from the time they were children, they hadn't gotten along. When Zoey was a toddler, Madison would take her toys and claim that she was too young for such nice things. If Zoey refused, the dolls were mutilated. At five, Madison convinced her that she was adopted, if only for the sure joy of seeing Zoey panicking. Of course, the fact that her father had taped the birth and the tape was in the cupboard beneath the television hadn't occurred to her, so Zoey had cried mercilessly under her bed for hours until her mother came to see what had happened. Madison had claimed the she had heard it from another family member, and was only trying to be nice. When they were seven, they went to the store for bubble gum. They decided to have a bubble-blowing contest. Determined to win, Zoey took three pieces and blew a huge bubble. When it reached an impossible size, Madison had popped it, splattering it back into her face and hair. Her mother had had to cut her hair and she'd had a page-boy for a year. However, Zoey then learned to fight back; two weeks after the bubble-gum incident, the family went camping. Zoey caught a frog in a nearby stream and shoved it to the bottom of Madison's sleeping bag. The horrified squeal that erupted had been worth the two-week grounding she'd received as punishment.

As a teenager, Madison grew out of physical pranks and grew into verbal attacks. When she was thirteen, Madison and her family moved to New York City, thanks to her father's promotion. After which, Madison had no use for the back-country small town she'd been born and raised in, and vocalized loudly when she came to visit. And apparently, Zoey did not fit her paradigm of what a girl their age should be doing, wearing, or eating. She made fun of Zoey for sleeping with a teddy bear, for wearing jeans and a ratty shirt to run around the backyard, for eating junk food. She pointed out character flaws that kept her cousin single, and insisted that even if Zoey _did_ change her ways, she was simply too plain to attract any male attention. Unlike her, who had "scores" of boyfriends back in New York. Even after Zoey went to P.C.A., Madison found ways to assert her superiority. She mocked Zoey's friends, telling her she was quite certain these friends would not stay past high school. After all, she'd said, who wanted to be friends with a small-town girl who before this, had never been much of anywhere else? Since Zoey really had no ammunition for this type of attack, she usually just ignored it. But that doesn't mean it wasn't annoying as hell. In fact, Madison was the second reason Zoey had avoided these family get-togethers over the years.

And now she was married with a baby. She could only imagine how Madison would use that against her. Probably something about getting to be an old maid. Or that her biological clock was ticking. After all, Madison bought into the whole "Must get married and have kids before thirty" mentality the rest of her family had, and this was just one more way she could feel superior over her cousin. At least Zoey wasn't alone…Madison would tear her apart.

Dinner was a rather noisy affair, and she was wondering how Chase was taking all this in. Admittedly, she'd never met his family—only talked to his grandmother over the phone—and couldn't accurately say what mealtimes were like at his house. But he'd mentioned once that he was an only child who lived with his parents in Boston, and his extended family rarely came to visit. Unlike her family, in which half of her extended family lived in the same town and visited the house regularly. Family dinners like this were the norm about twice a month, always loud, always crowded. Even she was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. The children were settled at their own table in the kitchen, save for someone's toddler, who was banging his spoon on his highchair tray and demanding more food while his mother implored him to at least say _please._ Her uncle Bud said a quick grace, and her father missed his cue to tell everyone to start, instead chiming in a few seconds after everyone grabbed dishes as though they hadn't eaten for days. Zoey snuck a glance at Chase to see how he was handling this, but he seemed perfectly content. In fact, her mother had introduced him to the rest of the table, and he was engrossed in a conversation about baseball with another cousin of hers. Though Zoey knew nothing about baseball, she caught snatches of the dialogue, and knew that Chase was trying valiantly to defend his team, the Red Sox, while her cousin insisted that there were tons of teams better than them. She had to snort when her cousin mentioned the Yankees; being a Red Sox fan, she knew Chase wouldn't stand for anyone even implying the Yankees were better. Zoey heard her name being called, and turned to talk to an aunt.

After dinner, the family worked like a well-oiled machine to get the dishes cleared and washed, and to hose down the kids that were now covered in food. As usual, the older men and women separated into their own groups, the men adjourning to the porch outside and the women to the living room to talk. The younger family members milled around the house, the ones with children preparing them for bed. Zoey glanced at the clock and started biting her thumbnail. Madison was due over any minute. She would be nice, since she'd promised her mother she would, but that didn't mean it wouldn't give her an ulcer in the process.

"You know," her mother told her over a pan of soapy dishwater. "I'm just so glad you decided to give Chase a chance."

"Hmm?" Zoey was only sort-of paying attention, instead gazing out onto the fields beyond the window over the sink. The children were out catching fireflies in the dusk. She heard a little girl squeal as one landed on the back of her hand.

"Giving Chase a chance," she continued. "It's always been obvious that he loves you. I was afraid for awhile that you were going to break his heart."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, yeah. Your father and I had a bet going. You'll be happy to know I won twenty dollars."

"I know. Dad told me."

"Did he? Well, regardless," her mother wiped her hands off on a dish towel and slung an arm around Zoey's shoulder. "We're just so happy you realized you love him, too. I swear, you've got a glow to you I haven't seen before. You just look so happy with him. Your father and I always hoped you'd find someone like Chase." She pressed a kiss to her daughter's temple and went back to washing dishes. Zoey stood there, dumbstruck. For once in her life, Zoey did not know what to say. Or what to think. Rather, she knew what she _didn't_ want to think about, which was everything her mother had just said….

After the dishes were done and the clock edged closer to Madison's arrival time, Chase wandered into the house with the same cousin he'd been discussing baseball with earlier.

"What's wrong, Zo?" he asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his chest. She'd taken refuge in the kitchen, where she wouldn't have to be accosted by anyone asking about her engagement or gushing over her cousin's visit.

"My cousin Madison is coming over in a few minutes."

"Okay?"

"She's the most awful woman in the entire world."

"Ouch," Chase winced. "That bad, huh?" Zoey was immensely happy that Chase hadn't told her she was jumping to conclusions. Her mother had done that every time Madison had done something wrong, and she couldn't bear to hear it again.

"Worse. She tortured me when we were kids."

"She tortured you?"

"You know Rebecca?"

"Yeah…" Chase grimaced. Rebecca was still a sore spot between them. She was never really mentioned after the blackmailing incident.

"I would take her over Madison any day of the week."

"That's….awful." At that moment, Zoey heard the front door open, and a tentative greeting drift through the house.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered. Without realizing it, she moved closer to Chase as a brown-haired woman toting an infant carrier came sweeping through the door, a slightly bemused and lanky man following her carrying a diaper bag. The women of the house (minus Zoey) did a repeat of the attack they'd done on Zoey, except instead of peppering Madison with questions about her husband, they cooed over the sleeping baby and made silly faces at him.

"That's Madison?" Chase leaned closer and whispered in her ear. She nodded. She was about to respond when Madison looked up and saw her cousin standing in the kitchen. Zoey had a zing of satisfaction (a zing of satisfaction she shouldn't be feeling, she reminded herself) when Madison's eyes went wide and she gave Chase a quick up-and-down look of approval. She felt Chase shift uncomfortably beside her; obviously he'd noticed the look as well.

"Hello, Zoey," she greeted tonelessly as she breezed into the kitchen.

"Hello, Madison," Zoey returned, trying to _be nice,_ as her mother had asked. However, if Madison started in on her usual bag of tricks, all bets were off. She was a grown woman, after all. She refused to be bullied by the likes of Madison.

"Who's this?"

"This is Chase," Zoey smiled. "My fiancé."

"Really?" Madison looked as though she were chewing this information like a piece of gum. She set the baby on the ground and stuck out a hand to Chase. "Well, I believe Zoey has forgotten to introduce us. I'm Madison, her cousin." Chase shook her hand hesitantly, as though expecting her to strike at any time. Madison noticed, and gave a high pitched giggle. "I'm guessing she's told you all sorts of horror stories about when we were kids, right?"

"Well—" Zoey could tell that Chase was searching for the words to be diplomatic. Luckily, he was saved by Madison cutting him off.

"That was years ago. Zoey and I have never really gotten along, and I was a bit of a wild child."

"Like Tarzan," Zoey muttered to herself under her breath. Chase stifled a laugh beside her, and it was obvious Madison had heard the jibe, too, as her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

"Yes, but at least I can act my age and be civil in front of company, Zoey," she retorted. The baby in the carrier began to fuss as he woke up and realized he was in a strange place, and thankfully that was the end of the conversation when Madison turned to attend to him. Zoey took that opportunity to escape onto the porch with Chase, where they sat in relative silence for the next hour or so, enjoying the peace of the countryside.

When her mother announced at eleven that it was high time for everyone to get some sleep, as they would all be up early tomorrow for the first part of the reunion (for Brooks family reunions were always two days long), Zoey was more than ready to comply. Sleep had been elusive the night before, and her plane ride nap hadn't been as restful as she'd hoped. Her mother began ushering people to individual rooms, and only then did it occur to Zoey that sleeping arrangements might be a little awkward. _Or a lot awkward,_ she thought as her mother stopped in front of the last guest room.

"And you and Chase will be in here, honey," she smiled. "I'm sure you'll be comfortable."

"But—" Zoey and Chase began to protest together.

"I'm not as old-fashioned as you think I am, Zoey," she laughed. "It's the twenty-first century. You can't honestly tell me you two haven't been sharing a room. You're engaged, for crying out loud!" Zoey didn't want to tell her mother that she _could_ honestly say that she and Chase had not been sharing a room, and now was not the time to argue. The couple were all but shoved inside the room, and her mother bid them goodnight.

It seemed as though Chase was looking everywhere but at her. Which was fine, because Zoey was trying to look everywhere but at _him._ The room was sparsely decorated, being a guest room. There was one large bed in the middle, a dresser, and a sofa. And though Zoey had loved to play in this room as a child, it now seemed odd and foreign to her.

"So…" she began. "How do we want to do this?"

"I could take the sofa," he suggested.

"I don't think either one of us could fit on that sofa," she said. "I doubt even Madison's baby could sleep comfortably on that thing."

"Then I'll take the floor," he reasoned.

"But that's not fair," she frowned. "Besides, what will my mother say when she comes to get us in the morning? It would look odd for us to be sleeping apart if we're supposed to be engaged."

"Yes…but…"

"Chase, we're adults. I think we can share a bed." _Plus, I could really enjo—oh, no, we're not going there._

"Right," he nodded. "Adults. We're adults, we can share a bed." With that, he excused himself to change. She changed quickly herself, opting for a demure nightgown and boxer shorts. No need to tempt fate, now was there? Chase quickly returned, obviously thinking along the same lines clad in pajama pants and a t-shirt. There were a few moments of shuffling as they climbed into the bed and tried to get comfortable. They ended up as far away from each other as they could get, almost hanging off the mattress.

"Goodnight," she said stiffly, shutting off the table lamp next to her.

"Goodnight," he returned, doing the same with the lamp next to him. And although she was tired, sleep was a long time coming for Zoey. She didn't want to dwell on why.

**A/N: Finally, I got another chapter out. Writer's block and schoolwork are awful!**


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